


five heavens Nassau had to offer (and the one it didn't)

by Issay



Category: Black Sails
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26990968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Issay/pseuds/Issay
Summary: When Nassau shows on the horizon, it feels like coming home.It's in the coarseness of the sand under his boots, in the way the island's air tastes like. It's unique and he can tell, he's been everywhere he ever wanted (and some places he never did want) and nowhere else feels like Nassau – so it must mean home, aye?
Relationships: Anne Bonny/"Calico" Jack Rackham, Eleanor Guthrie/Charles Vane, Eleanor Guthrie/Max, Miranda Barlow/Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Edward

**Author's Note:**

> It's an older story that somehow never got published - but what the hell, here you have it. Just keep in mind it's canon-compliant so pretty much an angstfest.

When Nassau shows on the horizon, Teach feels like he's coming home.

It's in the coarseness of the sand under his boots, in the way the island's air tastes like. It's unique and he can tell, he's been everywhere he ever wanted (and some places he never did want) and nowhere else feels like Nassau – so it must mean home, aye?

Blackbeard enjoys the noticeable tremble that courses through people there when they see him as he carelessly passes them on the narrow streets, the respect he has earned by his blood thirst, unflinching violence, brilliant strategy. He doesn't want to be loved, no, he will never make a fool out of himself trying to get others to like him. Edward has carried himself with brutal carelessness ever since he was a boy and it hasn't failed him, so he tries to get his young protegee to learn and apply that as well. Vane is smart and catches up real quick, but Teach worries about him sometimes – at least as much as Teach can ever worry. Charles has a tendency to romanticize places and people in his own, silent way. The Guthrie lass will become a problem as soon as she knows what to do with the tits she got, Blackbeard can already tell.

But it's a headache for another day.

For now Nassau offers him what it has best: wine (the type not mixed with water, the barkeep wouldn't dare, he likes his business intact and not in flames) and women, always ready and eager to please. Maybe he'll sire another bastard – a girl, always girls. But it's fine, he has time and he has Vane, a son in everything but blood. Teach smiles, sitting back in an armchair. Now that he has time he can give in to the temptation to play a little game in his head. There is no time for it when on sea, always busy and always vigilant. But in Nassau, having his cock suckled by a girl, he can let go of the control over his busy head. And so Edward Teach dreams about the future.

It's always something like this: himself, old and gray, stepping from Queen Anne's Revenge for the last time, handing the captain's book to Charles Vane, now a strong and experienced man in his own right. For Teach there is a sprawling, comfortable home on the shores of Nassau, with a view on the harbor so he can sit on his porch and watch over his dominion. He can smell the scent of rum in his cup and flowers in the garden, he can see the admiring stares of the Nassau crowds – behold, a pirate captain who lived long enough to die on his own terms.

(What Edward Teach don't know: somewhere out there young Eleanor is already seeping poison into Charles' head and it won't be two years before he is banished from his beloved shores. Blinded by his own imagination, Blackbeard overlooks a simple fact: you cannot trust mirages.)


	2. Jack

It's hard, making oneself recognizable when sailing. Everyone looks the same: sun-burnt, dirty, exhausted, with skin covered in a thickening layer of sweat, grit and salty water. There are no mirrors, fortunately, or Jack would go insane with the thought he's unremarkable, unrecognizable as he's on he knees one day during his youth, rubbing the deck clean of blood left all over the wood after their last prize trying to defend itself. On his left and on his right are other men who look the same as he does, on their knees, to be ridiculed or kicked by the bosun walking by. Absolutely forgettable. It's that day, Jack – tired after the fight and aching from pulled muscles, knowing his shift doesn't end for at least couple more hours – promises himself to make himself recognizable. He will make them know and remember his name, they will know his face, even if it kills him.

This is why Jack loves Nassau's streets. Years from that day on bloodied deck, he walks the main paths of the town proudly – like a peacock, Charles would say with a smile hidden in his voice – in his fine shoes, and clothing made from colorful cloths, jewelry click-clacking with his every move. There are sailors who nod to him and holler questions, so every now and then Jack will stop for a drink and a chat, making friends and new enemies alike, spreading gossip, hearing news. Streets of Nassau are thrumming with life, smelling of spices and rum, and sweat. For Jack it's the scent of good times, times of being seen and respected for who he was – who he made himself to be.

It's the one place he has left that England hasn't touched yet. It has already taken so much from him: his father, his chance of becoming something of a respectable merchant with education and lasting wealth. This makes him angry, it wakes fury deep inside his chest and need for violence that scares even him.

So Jack calls himself Calico and hunts English ships, and he walks the streets of Nassau like he belongs – this too delicate, too intellectual man, but no one will dare to say otherwise because if there is anything Jack excels at, it's surrounding himself with people scarier than him. So it's Vane by his side, this hulking towering beast of a man who can intimidate others with one look. And then it's Anne, his deadly shadow, the other side of his coin. Between the two of them, Jack feels unbeatable, victorious, seen.

Yes, everyone can see him now and he walks the streets of Nassau like it's his own slice of heaven.

(It won't be long until England takes away Charles Vane, and then takes Nassau for its own forever changing Jack's beloved sandy streets, and then finally reaches for Jack. He'll refuse to hide his own face or his name again, and so England will take him as well.)


	3. Eleanor

Eleanor doesn't know anything outside Nassau.

It's home with its hustle and bustle, and the cut-throat rules of life. Nassau lives fast and hard, and short as death is common. She doesn't remember the first time she sees a corpse; perhaps she's five, maybe younger, and someone killed a man in her father's tavern. No one shields children from these things here, it would defeat the purpose – they need to learn, sooner rather than later. It makes no difference to Nassau how old is the blood enriching its sands and ever hungry maw.

So Eleanor doesn't know anything except it, and accepts the rules of this life as her own: she is ruthless and manipulative just like the Nassau streets are, and she does not bow to anyone, even her own father. Nassau makes her grow up fast and hard. Maybe if her mother lived through the labor, Eleanor would have grown somewhere else – somewhere she would be an elegant little girl pretty like a porcelain doll, a poised young lady in theaters and galas, dancing with good men from appropriate families and charming everyone with her wit. Maybe she would have gotten married, and had a family, and lived to become a matron.

Eleanor doesn't have time for what ifs.

As much as Nassau shapes her, she tries to shape Nassau back – it's a power struggle that leaves her exhausted every evening, and yet more determined with each morning. But one cannot live like this forever, and so Eleanor starts to look for a safe place for her troubled head. Charles is out of the question, this human equivalent of a storm on the open ocean waters, a predator who chooses to lay his head on her lap. She knows he could destroy her plans easily. She recognizes the danger and refuses herself the comfort he could give her.

That's how she meets Max.

No matter how long the day is and how annoying the hagglers and pirates are, Eleanor has always something to look for at the end of her evening. On soft feet she slips through the overhead bridge connecting the tavern with the brothel on the other side of the street and slips into Max' bed, not bothered by anyone. It's soft and warm, a safe haven with her lover's tender hands working out the knots in the muscles of Eleanor's back. Max smells of flowers and incense when Eleanor buries her nose in the girl's hair, and it's a moment of peace so rare in Nassau, it's all the more precious. Neither of them feel the need for words, as they're empty and meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Instead, Eleanor just moans softly and Max drinks the sound from her lips.

(Later, much later – after all the betrayals and death, after ambitions cloud her judgment and cause irreparable damage, after Max moves on and finds her own little piece of heaven on earth, Eleanor will lie awake at night and wonder where exactly did she stray from the path. The night will give her no answers. Nassau doesn't forgive, my sweet.)


	4. Anne

Anne doesn't believe in good things.

Life is horrible and will do everything that can be done to make you miserable, for you to hope for the mercy of death. It is torture of the most horrific kind to lead the life Anne was born into. She doesn't know anything else, born to a mother selling her body to survive, and a man whose face she probably hasn't even memorized. There is no place for hope or ambition in the daily struggle to live through another day, no place for thriving or thoughtful moments. Anne molds itself into something vicious and bloody because the only people who will make it out alive are the vicious and ruthless. She's the child in torn up clothing with a knife between her teeth, she's the girl who marries the biggest bully she could find so no one touches her (except him, she didn't really think this through – at least that's what she realizes when bleeding on the floor of their rented out room).

Then she meets Jack, the charismatic idiot who kills her husband and drags her onto a ship in boy's clothing, and Charles who almost kills him for it, and Anne learns that she can be vicious, bloody and absolutely fearless. It is bizarre, living without fear of death as her constant companion, nipping at her ankles if she's not careful. But now she has more to lose and that scares her even though Anne will never admit to it. So she shadows Jack the best she can, and learns from Vane, and kills people in the dark corners of Nassau.

She doesn't care for the town. It's dirty and claustrophobic, and doesn't really have anything to offer. Nassau is just a convenient place to sell prizes and restock supplies but let Jack wax poetics about the chatter and community, about togetherness. Anne will just roll her eyes, and Vane will snort. It's just a place, like any other – it is not home.

Home is Jack. It's his little funny snores in the middle of the night, his non-stop talking she learned to ignore contents of and just enjoy the sound of his voice; it's his hands reverent on her skin. Jack who makes her feel worth something, who sees her for what she is and not what was done to her in the past, and who is always oh so ready to forgive her any sins. She will never say this out loud, of course, but he knows. Oh, he knows, she can hear it in his laughter and see in the way he searches for her approval.

(It is still far away but one day Jack is going to be hanged for his crimes, real and imagined, and Anne will be in the crowd watching her home tremble and die. There will be no tears, just the horrible knowledge that she is without him for the rest of her days. Mary, distraught, will have to drag Anne away from his body.)


	5. Charles

When he was a little boy, a missionary came to Albinus' encampment – or maybe he was part of a crew taken prisoner, Charles doesn't remember. Anyway, it's not important, really, he could never understand why some people insist on knowing every detail of the story. From his perspective, it doesn't change a thing: a missionary appeared in the encampment and talked about God, and the Scripture, and Albinus laughed. The poor monk kept trying to talk over that horrible laughter and even when the torture started he kept talking about love that is a home, and a piece of heaven that can be reached by anyone. Charles doesn't remember the man's face, or even where they buried the body once the master was done with it, but he has a clear memory of thinking that such thing as heaven couldn't exist. Something everyone can have? No, it didn't seem probable.

Years later, after surviving Albinus and Blackbeard, after clawing his way out of hell, he still doesn't believe it. Equality is shit. The concept is not worth a thing, that's how life works: someone will always be on the bottom of the food chain. The only aspect of it Charles cares about is that he himself isn't on the bottom ever again.

But the memory sticks around somewhere in the back of his mind. It resurfaces from time to time, threatening him with flashbacks to the „good old times” of being Albinus' slave boy, used for anything the master pleased. He pushes them back deeply, and goes to drown these memories and sobs swelling in his chest in opium and alcohol. But there are also other times. The more dangerous ones.

You see, Vane enjoys Nassau as much as any other pirate captain but if it wasn't for one little detail he wouldn't be there so often – he can resupply anywhere, or sell his cargo. No. Wait. Eleanor Guthrie is no little detail, she's the entire fucking picture.

With Eleanor in his arms, sleeping soundly curled into his heat, his brain races back to the memory of heaven being accessible. Heaven, isn't that a little piece of perfection, of contentment and love? Charles Vane is a man of few words, and „love” is not one of them – but what he wouldn't say out loud, he would freely admit to himself. Eleanor is a piece of heaven for him, the taste of her skin as much as the intelligent jabs she points at him ever so often. The nights she chooses to spend with him are rare and precious, and she wakes a sort of gentleness inside him. The need to protect and comfort her whatever it takes, no matter the cost.

(Later, when he is standing on the gallows, the cost almost seems too much. But is his life really too high of a price for the little pieces of heaven he got to have over the years in Nassau?)


	6. James

He could never find peace in Nassau.

Not in the busy town, too crowded for him even after experiencing the suffocating closeness of London streets. He searched for a bit of peace in the arms of whores, and on the bottom of a bottle, and none came. Not even in Miranda's home when she was still alive, no, there were too many ghosts clinging to her like a veil. So he leaves the wonders of Nassau to his crew to enjoy. They talk, of course he knows that they talk, but that's inconsequential. Crews always run their mouths about the captains, exchanging horror stories and exaggerating their own disobedience. Flint is well aware of that and accepts it as just part of this life, an element to the community's rituals. Drinking, fucking and bitching, three favorite activities of any pirate. Nothing new under the sun.

Flint treats Nassau with the sort of a love and hate mixed together. He loves it for its freedoms, for men sucking cock out in the open, without shame, and for women living on their own, and for lack of English flags. There are no wigs and stiff smiles, instead there is animalistic violence and the sort of free for all Flint thrives in. He has become the bloodied nightmare. James doesn't even want to wonder what would Thomas say if he saw captain Flint in his dark finery.

At the same time he hates the entropy Nassau is ruled by, the self-interest, this lack of purity of thought. Sometimes he misses the long hours of academic discussions in the Hamilton's salon, and when he says as much to Miranda, her eyes glitter with memories and sadness at the things they have both lost.

And then Miranda is lost as well, and Flint's last sparks of love towards the place flicker out and die. He throws himself head-first into his war, fought in the names of people he cannot bear to say any longer. Only at night, when he's alone in his cot he tries to remember the scent of Thomas' hair, and softness of Miranda's skin. They were his home, his heaven, his promised land. He is the last one alive, and the sheer unfairness of it takes his breath away. He thought so many times he'll find the merciful death in battle but apparently this grace will not be shown to him. Flint fights until he can't, and at the end of the war he is beaten but still alive.

John Silver looks at him with sadness and pity, and Flint doesn't flinch. He is ready for whatever hell awaits him at the end of the journey, just as long as it eventually ends. So he allows himself to be tied up and carried on the waves, and then through fields under the bluest skies. Nassau long forgotten, dead and burned to the ground.

„It's a mercy,” someone tells him when they take the shackles off, and James doesn't register who because the unthinkable is standing in front of him. Thomas reaches out, this oh so dearly familiar stranger, the beloved ghost in flesh and blood.

James sobs into the kiss, unashamed, Nassau long forgotten and taste of heaven on his tongue.


End file.
